The Psalmist wrote that God is near to the brokenhearted. Not that He fixes the brokenness on the spot, but that He is close to those inside it. This sonnet is a small psalm for that nearness, and for the heart that discovers it is not alone in the break.
The Sonnet
My heart is broken. There is no other word. It is not sad, nor merely deeply grieved, But cracked in ways that cannot be reheard As whole, however tenderly believed. I did not know a heart could split like this, Could carry, in its wounded quiet form, So many pieces, tender as the kiss Of what was lost, and still be somehow warm. And yet You are, the ancient promise says, Close to the ones whose hearts have come apart, A nearness that no reasoning betrays, A presence in the fractures of the heart. So I will bring my pieces, small and true, And trust the closeness of the One who knew.
Reflection
The Psalmist promises that God is near to the brokenhearted. He does not promise, at least not always, that the brokenness will be immediately mended. He promises presence, and presence of a particular kind, the kind that comes close precisely when the heart is in pieces, and does not leave.
This is a different comfort than we sometimes ask for. We want the wound closed. God, more often, offers the closer companionship of one who does not turn away from the wound. In the long story of a life, the mending does come, in the ways and at the times that it is given. But the nearness comes first, and the nearness is itself already a mending of another kind.
If your heart is broken tonight, bring the pieces. You do not have to be whole to come. The God of the broken is close to you in this moment, closer than He is at the times you are unbruised.
